


Hidden Gems

by JailynnW



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Baby Yoda (inspired), Brienne is an Angel, Dany as a baby, Death, F/M, Gen, I'll understand, Jaime as a dad, Jaime is a hardworking dad, Or not, Please read, Violence, all references to baby yoda are done with love, completely different from canon, on Tarth, will have canon references, young kids raising kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-20 12:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22017166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: Aerys shook with fear as he approached. The intent in his green eyes must have shown because the older man stuttered, questions flowed from his lips as he watched Jaime’s blade closely. “What are you doing? Whose blood coats your blade? Why are you not protecting me? I will have youburned!” Spit flew from his chapped lips as he spoke with hollow command.The force of those words spurred him on. He would not let another innocent die at the hands of a mad man. Jaime locked gazes with his king. The one he was sworn to protect and gripped his blade more firmly in his hand. “You will never burn another again. You will breathe for the last time on this night.”__________________________
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70





	Hidden Gems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts), [merrymaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/gifts), [River_Melody_Pond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Melody_Pond/gifts), [ilikeblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeblue/gifts).



> I really hope you like this. It's a story I have been sitting on for weeks. I fell in love with Baby Yoda and was going through a tough time writing. I really thought about stepping away from the fandom when this appeared in my brain. I have tons of people to thank and I will add to this portion later because they deserve all the love in the world. I really hope you like it. Thank you for your time!!
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> Thank you to Merrymaya for editing this and being my constant cheerleader. Thank you to Ro for giving me the path to take this and the beautiful art. It's her prompt that started it. Thank you to ILikeBlue and River_Melody_Pond for being my beta/test readers. You all are the backbone that keep me going. 
> 
> \----------------------
> 
> Age references and other facts:
> 
> Jaime is around 18/19  
> Brienne is around 17  
> Dany is an only child- her brothers died (because I needed her to be an only child LOL)

[ ](https://imgur.com/cBHaQR7)

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_  
**Chapter 1: Amethysts Shining in the Dark**   
_

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Angst prompt for Ro: “You deserve so much better than me.”/ “I can’t live without you. Don’t go. Please.”

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Aerys shook with fear as he approached. The intent in his green eyes must have shown because the older man stuttered, questions flowed from his lips as he watched Jaime’s blade closely. “What are you doing? Whose blood coats your blade? Why are you not protecting me? I will have you _burned!_ ” Spit flew from his chapped lips as he spoke with hollow command.

The force of those words spurred him on. He would not let another innocent die at the hands of a mad man. Jaime locked gazes with his king. The one he was sworn to protect and gripped his blade more firmly in his hand. “You will never burn another again. You will breathe for the last time on this night.”

A hollow laugh rattled from the aging man. It shook his bones and made Jaime want to vomit on the cold floor. “I will never die. I will rise again. The dragon will take flight!”

 _No,_ Jaime thought as he rushed forward with his sword ready to impale. The old frail body gave way under the sharp metal easily. It penetrated his back and slid through his chest. He pressed in close and whispered to the gasping king, “You will never rise from the ashes. Your bones will break and turn to dust. Your skin will rot from your body and animals will feast on your remains. The crows will pick at your eyes, take your tongue.” The king’s shit slid down his leg mixing with a pool of his warm piss. “You have been sentenced to die and die you will.”

He pulled the blade from Aerys’ chest and swiftly sliced his throat. Deep, rich crimson flowed from the cut and met the rest of the fluids on the ground. Jaime released his hold on the dying man, letting the body drop. He swallowed harshly. His stomach was rolling, and he once again felt like he was going to throw up. He stepped over the cooling corpse and looked around him. The King’s chambers smelt of gore and death. He opened the door and stepped over the threshold. His mind was racing with thoughts and his stomach lurched again. He walked quickly away from the crime; he would await his punishment in his room. 

He was not foolish enough to believe that his name would be praised for this crime in public. He knew everyone would know what he did. He was one of the only guards on watch tonight with so many at war. His white cloak was still hung in his closet and the one wrapped around his shoulders now proudly showed his real allegiance- to the Lannister family.

In his haste to leave the King’s bedroom, he passed the spider. The balding man with eyes took one look at him and clasped his hands into the folds of his robes.

“You did it,” he said with a silky tone.

“Did what,” Jaime hissed. He needed to leave. He could still smell the King’s death on his clothes and he wanted to relieve himself of the scent.

“I always knew it would be you. I was hoping it would happen before now.” Jaime’s eyes narrowed. “There is a man that will help you escape but he asks for something in return.”

“What?” He would not play innocent or dumb. Both knew whose blood covered his sword.

“A package,” Varys smiled, and a chill ran through Jaime’s body. “One wrapped in a woolen blanket. He will be expecting you at daybreak.”

Varys turned and walked away but not before meaningfully stopping in front of a door. Jaime knew what rested there. His heart sunk. He walked over to the heavy wooden door and pressed his hand to it. His _bloody_ hand. He opened the door and walked into the room. Shadows of dragons danced on the walls.

A tiny cry- small and soft- broke the silence. Jaime looked at the package Varys was referring to and closed his eyes…

*/*/*/*

The exchange was supposed to happen at first light. The packages would be swapped, and all would be as it was supposed to be. Jaime’s hands were sweating. He kept his eyes averted from the tiny bundle at his side. His stomach lurched as the sun began its slow climb up the mountain’s ridge. Oranges mixed with the dark blues and moss-greens. His throat began to close. Each breath was a struggle. His chest felt tight. He was suffocating in his own body.

The steady sound of hooves against the ground alerted him that the person he was meeting was almost there. He swallowed hard and finally looked at the package he was tasked with bringing. A tiny hand reached out from the woolen blanket. Violet eyes hooded from sleep and innocent of crime stared in his direction. Shame filled him. He felt the filth of his deeds covering him. The small hand touched his sleeve, warm and tiny fingers clutching at his clothes.

He gently pulled the hand from his arm and placed it back under the blankets again. The violet eyes watched him calmly. Trust he didn’t deserve reflected in those deep purple pools. The truth of his crime will soon reach all of Westeros. The Mad King, slain in his own piss and shit, was cut down by a killer in the night. The trails of his crimson blood spilled and splattered on the floor of his bedroom. It was done to stop the war. It was done to secure victory.

Jaime Lannister, the Lion of Casterly Rock, the youngest to wear the white, the golden child of Tywin Lannister, had done what others would not. He had taken the task and killed the man who had threatened so many. And then had stolen the slain King’s daughter from her crib to give to another for safe passage. Jaime shivered. When had the darkness taken hold of him? When had he began his fall from grace? He looked at the child wrapped in the moth-eaten blanket one more time and growled deep in his throat.

His decision was made before he even climbed on his horse. He could not let the man he was supposed to meet kill a child. Free of her father’s influence, she has done nothing to earn death. Her life would not be taken… The little girl cooed at him, her perfect pink lips opening on a yawn as she settled against his chest. Jaime closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and then urged his steed harder. He had to cover a lot of ground and somehow stay hidden, while having the most famous of faces and carrying the most obvious of precious cargo.

This should be easy.

*/*/*/*

The day he arrived on Tarth, he was exhausted and wary of everyone. He was nervous at being found out and taken to the gallows as a traitor. And he was terrified of what that would mean for the tiny child he had decided to protect. The money he possessed had been mostly spent on safe (and confidential) passage to anywhere but King’s Landing as well as a contact in whatever port he ended up in. He was blessed to have been a knight for many years and for the handsome pay he had received from that work. He had never needed to spend what he got, being from the family he was, and not inclined to indulge in the excesses afforded to someone of his stature.

He exited the boat with his head buried in the hood of his cloak and the princess held close to his chest. In the moons since he had done the horrific deed of killing the king, another rose to power and war had only simmered down, but did not stop completely. King Robert- the Stag with a war hammer for a weapon- took his place on the throne with relish. Jaime knew of him. He had been in the inner circles of the noble elite enough to see who were politically inclined. There were those that were diplomats with silver tongues and those that were brutes with armies. Robert was a brute. He let his war hammer speak for him. Cleverness was not his tool of choice, he preferred force.

Jaime only hoped that he would not be a tyrant. Surprisingly, gathering information on the journey proved to be quite uncomplicated. Women warmed up to him being a widowed father, whose wife died of fever in the birthing bed, whereas men found him non-threatening. Something Jaime found to be rather humorous. Stories about the murdered King and the lost princess were spoken with a mix of relief and fear. No one was certain of who committed the crime… rumors said that a guardsman had done it, but the name Jaime Lannister was never pronounced. Jaime did not know if that was his father ruthlessly crushing the story from getting out or if his crime was so hideous no one wished to utter his name.

Kingslayer was the only one whispered. The little princess- who he renamed Joanella to pay homage to her mother and his- was mostly easy to care for. It was eye-opening trying to learn how to feed her. He found a woman on the trip who had been willing to offer her help, as she had just had a baby, and he had accepted gratefully. It was a blessing from the Mother that she was willing to be a wet nurse while on the voyage, but now… he did not know what he would do.

Joanella cried out suddenly and he snuggled her closer to his chest, rocking her in the way he had learned she liked best. His eyes searched for his contact. The man that would give him the deed to some land and a new life. Jo settled against him, her tiny hand curling into his tunic and her soft breath on his skin. He looked down at the light hair and skin and knew he would have to do something soon to hide both from view.

A guy, bent and slightly dirty, came up to him. Jaime instinctively tightened his hold on the princess. Every new person was a person to watch carefully. He had never been one to trust easily; but now with all that had happened, he was even quicker to distinguish lies from the truth. A man with yellowing teeth, a sparse beard- mostly gray with touches of brown- and wrinkled, aging skin came up to him. He smiled and Jaime narrowed his eyes.

“The weather is rather lovely today,” the older man said. “Blue with gold-rimmed clouds. This spot will make a newcomer feel right at home. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jaime relaxed slightly. This was his contact. He gave the man another once over. The dirty tunic he wore was filled with holes and his pants were a size too big. The cloak he wore covered his body, making him appear smaller. He looked frail but Jaime got the impression that was a carefully constructed act. This man was a trader of goods and people, he probably knew how to fight if necessary.

“It will do nicely,” Jaime changed the tone of his voice. He made it less deep and rougher, as if he had been chewing on rocks and tearing his throat up. “My daughter and I will feel like part of the crowd soon enough.”

“Aye,” the man reached into his tunic and handed Jaime a thick rolled parchment. Jaime juggled the princess- she protested the movement by crying out again- and reached into his pouch for the gold dragons he had already counted out. The exchange was quick. Once the trader had his gold, he smiled again and tipped his head. “Enjoy your stay here on Tarth.”

He watched the older man disappear into the crowd as he rocked Jo to restfulness again. He held his breath for a moment. His heart was slamming into his chest. There was no going back now…but there never was in the first place. He had made his decision the moment he killed the King and took the princess. Now he had to deal with the consequences of his actions. Jaime walked into the harbor town and took in all he could. It was less populated than King’s Landing. The people here seemed to have more time to talk with neighbors and strangers, smiling and laughing more.

Jaime frowned. He would stick out if he didn’t try to blend in. That would require making himself and, by extension, the baby he was caring for, known. He could not be a ghost. He could see that neighbors knew each other here, unlike in King’s Landing where strangers barely greeted those they did not know. This was dangerous on many levels. He sighed softly to himself. He never did think things though. Tyrion would have had a plan. He would have known how to navigate the pitfalls. Jaime had never had the mind for that. Of the three Lannister children, he was the one that found the least amount of joy in the world of politics.

Most considered him dim because he lacked skill with a quill. His father had always grimaced at his handwriting and slowness to read. He had always been one who wanted to be outdoors, not shackled to a book. His mind never settled. It was jumping from one thing to another and only seemed to focus when he had a blade in his grasp. He found his place and that he was not so dim when he stood at Arthur’s side. Jaime learned how to plan an attack and protect those that needed it. His actions lately, however, might prove his father correct. Only a fool would kidnap a princess, even if he did it to protect her from death. He longed for the mind of a scholar to help him now. He pushed his charge closer to his shoulder and moved quicker through town. He needed to find a pub so he could look at a map and plot his way to his new dwelling.

The businesses that line the cobblestone streets were made of whitewashed bricks and seemed to be pristine compared to the dirtiness of the capital. Jaime took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the salty air of the sea that surrounded the island. He was momentarily transported to his childhood on Casterly Rock. The ocean had been different there, rougher and deep green, while Tarth’s waters were calmer and a crystal-clear sapphire. But the smell of the air… it was the same. He smiled just a little. He had missed the sand between his toes while stuck in armor at the King’s side. He had missed the wind floating through his hair as he stood on the edge of the water and watched the sun sink beneath the waves…

It would be nice to have a little of that back. Even if only a little. He took another deep breath, holding it in his lungs, enjoying the slight burn. Jaime could get used to the crispness of this air. It was such a change from the stench he had been living in for way too long. He stopped in front of a wooden door and looked up at the sign that had the words: _The Salty Sand Dollar_. Accompanying the words was a picture of a white round shell that had three openings in the circle being held by a pretty blonde mermaid. He pulled on the metal handle and entered the tavern. He was ready to be assaulted by barmaids and drunken sailors, but only a few people were in the darkened building. Some gruff men in worn clothes glanced his way briefly but then went back to the fish soup in front of them. The barmaids were busy with the regulars, smiling in his direction to acknowledge they would be with him soon. The bartender was wiping down the wooden bar and looked up briefly. Jaime nodded his head and the barman returned the gesture before going back to his work.

The lack of pressure relieved some of the tension in his shoulders and he took a seat at a long table by the hearth. He pulled the sleeping baby from his chest and stared down at her. Her cheeks were tinted pink and her small lips were parted in rest. Her pale eyelashes fluttered gently against her cheeks. He touched the soft skin of her face. Warm and sweet. He leaned down and inhaled the light scent that was all her.

“Aw,” he looked up and saw a youthful woman with wild brown curls and big brown eyes staring down at him. He smiled a little, careful to keep his lips shut. “What a sweet lil’babe. What’s ‘er name?”

“Joanella,” he changed his tone again. “But I call ‘er Jo.” He mimicked her broken speech.

“Purty name!” Her grin was wide and open, there was a sweetness to her expression. “Can I git sumthing for ya?”

“Directions,” he pulled the deed from his pocket. “I’m ‘ooking fur my land. I’m new to the island.”

Her eyes shadowed a bit. “I’m sorry sir. I can’t read. But Bilken can. He’s the bartender. He can help.”

“Thank ya.” She nodded and smiled again. “Can I have a bit of fish soup and some milk for me babe?”

“’ure! I’ll get that for ya!” She started to walk away and then turned back. “I’ll send Bil over as well.”

He nodded to her and looked back down at Jo. Her fist came up and pressed into her mouth and his heart melted. He silently prayed to the Seven that he would do right by her. Because he was all she had and that was his doing…

The fish soup, which was mostly sparse chunks of white fish and a few floating pieces of carrot and onion, was placed in front of him with cups of milk and ale. He looked up from Jo one more time into the hard face of the bartender. Jaime’s muscles tightened. His right-hand clenching at his side.

“Merry ‘aid ya needed ‘elp.” His voice was deeper than any Jaime had ever heard. “’Ew to the area?”

“Yeah,” he said. It was hard for him to remember to drop his tone while being so tense. He was on guard ready for someone to recognize him or his charge with each new pair of eyes on them. “I ‘ust need ‘elp finding me land.”

The tall islander with salt and pepper hair nodded. “’Et’s see it then.” Jaime pulled the deed out and handed it to the bartender. The man looked over it quickly and rubbed his chin. “It’s on the ‘ast side. I live near it actually. Me neighbor died last fall. We will be neighbors. ‘T’s easy to find. Follow the road ‘ast to the bridge. Take a ‘eft and continue until the crossing. Your plot is on the ‘ight.” He handed back the deed. “Wha’s yar name neighbor?”

“Jai…” he paused panicked and swallowed quickly. He smiled shakingly, rocking Jo into him. “Jaiwyn Storm.”

“’ice to meet ya, Jaiwyn.” He nodded to the soup. “Enjoy.”

Jaime watched him as he left. His hands were shaking. He had to be more careful. He almost gave himself away on the first day. His heart was racing. He couldn’t slip up now.

*/*/*/*

The trek to his new dwelling was not as treacherous as he feared it would be. The directions the bartender gave him were actually quite easy to follow and soon he stood in front of a small hut. Jaime tilted his head and looked intently at his home. It was not big and grand, that was for certain. It was a single-story blocky looking home with big windows in the front. The roof was covered in moss from the trees that surrounded it. The wood and stone were done in the same whitewash as the rest of the island dwellings and businesses.

The path to the door was lined with high grass, but not as high as Jaime would have assumed. It was obvious some care had been taken since the previous owner’s passing. He rocked Jo onto his shoulder and started up the path. He swallowed hard as he pushed down on the metal latch and entered. He looked down at the babe in his arms and caressed her cheek.

“We are home, Jo.” He whispered. Her eyes blinked open and vivid purple stared up at him. “I am going to take care of you. That is my oath to you. I have broken many, but I will not break this one.”

She gurgled bubbles as she smiled slightly at him. He felt a wave of guilt at the trust in her eyes. He looked away as his chest tightened. He could not think of things like her hating him in the future now. Now he needed to get her inside and start setting up their life together.

The inside of the home was much more spacious than he thought it would be. There was a small kitchen off to his left side and on his right was a large bed. In the middle of the room was a large black clay brazier used for warmth. In the roof there was a hole, slightly covered so the weather was kept out of the home for the smoke to escape. There were some chairs and a worn fur rug on the warped wood floor. Jaime walked further into the room, letting the door shut behind him and placed Jo in the middle of the bed. He took a deep breath.

He suddenly felt lost. He had no idea what to do now. This small amount of peace was unnerving to him. The past several moons since they escaped the castle had been about completing the next task on his list. It was a linear focus. Get away, get to safety, find a home, build a life- he just didn’t know how to do that. He pulled at the strings of his cloak and removed the garment from his body, walking over to hang it on the hook next to the door. His mind was racing with all he needed to figure out, but he couldn’t seem to narrow it down to one.

He had no idea how to be anything but a soldier. He had never owned land- even though his father’s dream had been for him to take his place as Lord- and now he had to work the land to survive. He took the small bags of items he could carry with him from the markets in town and set it down on the table. He pulled out some clothes for Jo and new blankets, two bread loaves and a small bottle of milk. It was not much. He could not spend money he did not have, but he hoped it would get him started.

Jo cooed on the bed. He turned to look at her just as her tiny face screwed up and she let out a wail. He rushed over to her and picked her up. Her tiny fist shook as she continued to cry. He gently bounced on the balls of his feet, humming to soothe her. She paused her show of displeasure to blink up at him. Her tiny mouth was pulled down into a frown while her cheeks were an angry red, and her purplish eyes were swimming in tears. He pressed his lips to her forehead and inhaled.

“Are you hungry?” he whispered, moving over to the table with her and opening the milk. He picked up a rag and dipped it into the drink, soaking it enough for her to suck some from the cloth. He held it to her lips and her expression darkened again. Large tears leaked from her tightly closed eyes. He put the rag down and lifted her onto his shoulder, rocking her and speaking softly. He pressed his hand to her bottom and felt for wetness. She seemed dry and did not have the distinct smell of shit. He started panicking a little. If she wasn’t in need of changing and didn’t want food, what did she want? He pressed his lips to her head again and noticed a slight fever. “Oh, sweet little lioness, are you not feeling well?”

She softened her cries for a bit, then wailed harder. Her body tensed against him. He patted her back softly, whispering promises. Jo settled down to a whimper and her breathing evened out. Jaime angled his head to look at her. Her cheeks were still red and she looked very unhappy in her sleep. He moved her toward the bed again. She cried out as he moved her away from his body to place her back onto the mattress. He paused in his movements. He looked out the window and saw the sun begin to set beyond the trees. With a deep sigh, he climbed onto the bed, while holding her close and laid back. Her hands curled tightly into his tunic as he settled himself.

It did not take long for his own exhaustion to take over and he fell asleep with her on his chest. Her warm weight on his body and her sweet breath on his neck was a comfort to him. He only hoped he was a comfort to her as well.

*/*/*/*

The first sennight after they arrived, Jaime noticed the change in Jo. Her calm demeanor that had been a blessing on the trip was gone. She cried most nights, her body tight and her face red. He could not figure out what to do to help her. She did not want milk, pushing away when he attempted to feed her. He noticed how her legs would bunch up, curling into a tight ball of misery. He felt like a failure and did something he rarely did: he prayed to the Mother for guidance.

After three nights of sleeplessness, Jaime started to go a little crazy. The only time he got a reprieve was when she finally wore herself out and fell into a fitful sleep. He tried to use those hours to farm his small plot of land, but he often found himself getting weak and frustrated because he was so exhausted. He was lucky to have a neighbor happen upon him one day and give him a small basket of vegetables, so he didn’t starve.

“Me wife has ‘eard yer babe crying,” Bilken said as he handed him carrots, onions and radishes. “She is soft-hearted and knew ya were not eating well.” He then handed him a jar of soup and some milk. “Sum fish soup from the ‘ub. If ya need help, come ‘ver.”

“Thank ya,” Jaime had felt like breaking down in relief. That night he heated some milk for Jo and ate a meal… which was a rarity. 

On the seventh night, Jaime took Jo to the beach. He walked in the moonlight as she whimpered and cried. His mind was dull and tired. He wondered if this was his punishment for his crimes. Joanella had realized just who was taking care of her and this was her revenge. His spirit was breaking further and further with each step. 

“Come now, Jo,” he whispered thickly. “I do not know what to do. Please my little lioness, what can I do?”

“Her belly is sore,” a musical voice said from behind his back. He spun around and came face to face with the tallest woman he had ever seen. He could not see much of her, but her hair looked almost silver in the moonlight. Her features were shadowed by darkness, which he noticed she did not try and move from. She was broad, dressed simply in a cream tunic and a blue skirt. His eyes took in as much of her as he could. Jaime took a half a step back to put space between them as she continued to speak, “My sister used to get bellyaches that would wake the house. Rub her stomach, it will help.”

He was caught between desperation and suspicion. He did not know this woman and he knew there were people looking for him. She spoke like a high born. Jaime narrowed his eyes. The shadowed woman did not advance toward him or move away. She simply stood there. They watched each other until Jo cried out loudly. He shifted Jo in his arms and gently rubbed her tiny belly. The baby’s cries lessened, and she let out a tiny burp. Some bubbles gathered on her lips and her cheeks seemed to lighten in color. His shoulders slumped a little in relief. He looked up and saw the mysterious woman move further into the dark shadows. 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “It is the first time she has settled and relaxed a little.”

“She may need to see a maester,” the tone of her voice was magical. Soft and sweet with a hint of deep tones. Contradicting and enticing. Jaime shook his head slightly. He needed sleep. 

“I don’t have money for a maester,” he lied, slipping back into the role of a poor farmer. “I’m ‘ew to the island and have ‘ery little.”

She paused, tilting her head to the side. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulder. The only sound between them for a moment was the sound of the waves crashing into the shore next to them. “Welcome.” She whispered to him. “I should be getting back home. It is very late.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “I hope she gets to feeling better.”

“Me too,” he responded, sad that she was leaving. “Thank ya fer yer help.”

The blonde nodded. He wished he could see her properly. “You are welcome…”

He watched her disappear into the night and felt his stomach clench. He did not want to be alone. He wanted to listen to her talk some more. Her voice was beautiful and he wanted to listen to it while he rocked Jo. He wanted to ask her questions- such as why hide in the shadows? Why not show her face? What was her name?

Jaime sighed and walked back to his home. Jo’s mouth opened and shut in her dreams as they entered the dwelling. He curled up on the bed with her against his chest, falling into an exhausted slumber quickly.

*/*/*/*

Jaime poured water into a small pot on the clay brazier, letting it boil and bubble. Jo laid on her stomach on the bed. She was still quite fussy but calmed a little with belly rubs. For which he was grateful, he had almost gotten a good amount of sleep. He needed to find that woman from the beach and kiss her feet. He did not feel so useless now that he knew a way to help his babe. A knock at the door had him tensing up in suspicion. He reached down into his boot for the dagger he kept there.

Looking back at Jo, he eased toward the door and opened it slowly. An older man stood in front of him in long brown robes. He had a chain around his neck and bottles in his hands. His face was withered and wrinkled. He smiled warmly at Jaime.

“Hello, I am here to check on your babe. My name is Maester Gylwell,” he said waiting for Jaime to open the door wider. After another moment of hesitation, he let the maester in, quickly putting the dagger back in his boot. The maester was a man of stocky build. He was almost a full head and a half shorter than Jaime. Gylwell looked at Jo on the bed and walked over to her. Jo protested to the maester’s touch, moving and crying out as he examined her. Jaime moved closer to them; a lion ready to protect his cub if the older man hurt her. She let out a wail when his fingers brushed over her side. Jaime’s hand curled into a fist. The maester sighed, “Poor little babe. Yes, your belly hurts. I know. I will help your papa make you better.”

Jaime watched as he reached into his robes and extracted a thin glass tube. He opened one of the brown vials, inserting the tube in. When he removed the glass, it had a pinkish liquid inside. He placed the instrument on Jo’s lips and waited for her to open her mouth. Once she did, he let the liquid drop down her throat, picking her up so she didn’t choke. Joanella swallowed the medicine with a grimace and a cry. 

“Yes, little dove, I know it does not taste good, but it will help ease your tummy.” Maester Gylwell looked up at him and smiled. “She will need a drop once every few hours and two drops before bed. It will help her sleep and settle the aches.”

“What is wrong,” Jaime asked, reaching out for Jo and cradling her close. 

“Many babies have problems with their stomachs at this age,” the maester stood up from the bed, closing the vial up and leaving it with the tube next to the bed. “Unfortunately, we do not know why it happens, but she should be fine in a couple of moons.”

“Moons?” Jaime asked horrified.

“Aye,” Gylwell nodded. “It is an illness that takes time to recover from.” He walked toward the door. “I will return to check on her in a two sennights.”

“I have nothing to pay ya for yer service,” he said forcing himself to break his speech. His eyes dropped from the medicine man. “I thank ya. But I have nothing.”

“It is taken care of,” the maester smiled at him. “Good day.” He smiled one last time before walking out of the home and closing the door behind him. 

Jaime stared at the wood. His heart began to race a little. _It is taken care of…_

The woman from the beach… it had to be. Jaime looked at Jo who smiled up at him for the first time since she started feeling unwell. “Lil’ Lioness, I think we may have a chance after all.” 

He made a plan to find out his helper’s name and thank her properly. For Jo and for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! ❤️


End file.
